Marriage is that thing that takes place when your spouse has put on work boots and used your last nerve as a trampoline. To save it you need a go-to move. My wife has one. I call it her bread and butter.

Eve has graduated to Justin Bieber, and like the millions of little girls who’ve fallen under Bieber’s spell, she’s behaving less like a fan and more like a cult member with every passing day.

Yes, I got someone younger and prettier as soon as I had the chance to do so, but that doesn’t make me a bad guy. Just because I’ve already washed my new car with the same towels I used for Silver Shadow, I’m not some kind of scoundrel.